


The Lost Son

by JonathanAnubian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Tolkien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/JonathanAnubian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of events no one could have predicted the youngest son of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian of Rivendell mysteriously vanishes, leaving Celebrian torn. Everyone assumes the child had been killed by Orcs but a discovery years later has them rethinking that theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bladerunner89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladerunner89/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to my amazing Fiance.

The air in the mountain pass was crisp and cold as the sun rarely shone there. On the ground and the sparse greenery a heavy layer of snow shone faintly. The party moved at a quick but even pace, keeping their guard up. In the center of the group a beautiful and ethereal woman wrapped a second blanket snugly around the small bundle in her arms, smiling as she did so.

This woman was the Lady Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, wife of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Currently she was on a journey to visit her parents in Lothlorien with a contingent of guards. In her party was someone she wished dearly for her parents to meet. Although Elrond had been a little concerned about their departure he said nothing to try and stop her. It just made her love him more, if that were remotely possible.

Movement in front of the horses made the soldiers wary, taking up their swords and bows. About to ask what was wrong a hail of arrows from above took out three of her guards. In an instant they were penned in by an ambush. Gripping the reigns in her hands she held the bundle close to her chest and nudged her horse into a gallop. The guardsmen held off the orcs long enough for her to pass by but were being overtaken by the sheer number and the tactical advantage they held.

Racing as quickly as the horse could manage in that rocky pass she heard the barking and angry yells of the orcs right behind her. An arrow came from nowhere and struck her horse in the flank, making it stumble to the ground. Landing safely the silver haired woman clutched the bundle to her as it began to cry in confusion and fear. Picking up her skirts she began to run as fast as she could, all the while calling out to the Valar.

 _"Aratar. This child, this innocent, is in dire need. I humbly beg for your help."_ This plea, so sincere and filled with love, caught the attention of a power she couldn't have even imagined. One moment her child was crying in her arms and the next moment he had vanished. Eyes wide she stared down into her empty arms as the orcs finally closed in, capturing her.

_'Where is my baby?'_


	2. Revelation

It was a hot summer day at number four Privet Drive, the heat beating down made bodies sticky with sweat. One particular body was that of young Harry Potter, recently returned home from his second year at Hogwarts. Already he was missing the old castle, with the comfortable dorm room, spacious common room, and all the friends he’d made there. So far things hadn’t been much worse than the year before. If anything they tried to pretend he didn’t exist until they needed him for something. Wiping the sweat off of his brow he looked around the yard and sighed. Everything was finally done. Just in time for him to help with dinner too.

Before going back inside he took the hose to his shoes, making sure they were clean of any dirt, and dried them as best he could. Aunt Petunia always got mad if he came inside with dirt on his shoes. Slipping the gloves off his hands he opened the front door and closed it behind him. From the living room he could see his Uncle, Vernon, sitting on the couch with a glass of lemonade. The sound of the evening news was loud enough that Aunt Petunia could hear it in the kitchen, since both of them liked to keep on top of things and make snide remarks about anything they deemed abnormal.

“...and now the visiting Lord of the Eldar would like to make a statement.” Taking off his shoes he turned to glance at the television. Just under a year ago, right after he’d gone back to Hogwarts, a new kind of people arrived in England. At first nobody could believe it when a large contingent of Elven warriors, wearing full armor, came riding into a sleepy farming village out in the countryside. After all these Elves were like nothing the Magical world, or the Mundane world, had ever seen before. Rather than get involved, however, the Magical world closed itself off from the people calling themselves the Eldar. Hermione mentioned, when she received the London Times from her parents at Hogwarts the previous year, how much of a shame that was. The Elves were graceful, noble, and very intelligent. She was thoroughly invested in learning about how they had crossed through dimensions and wouldn’t shut up about it most of the year.

 _“Aragail, my son. These years away from home must have been hard for you. Not knowing who you are, not understanding why you are different. I just want you to know that we will not stop our search...”_ Hearing something familiar he turned toward the television and squinted at the tall Eldar Lord standing at the podium. Wearing clothes from wherever they had come from, rather than a normal suit, he looked regal, stern, yet also kind. Something about him seemed almost welcoming, though he supposed he was also intimidated a little. Out of the speech Harry thought he recognized one or two of the words spoken, his head hurting as he tried to comprehend. Was this something to do with his magic?

“Boy! What are you doing lazing about there, staring into space like that. Get cleaned up and start on the potatoes.” Hearing the high, whiny, and angry voice of his Aunt he jumped slightly before going into the bathroom to clean off. Looking at his reflection in the mirror he blinked as something seemed to ghost over the glass. Spooked he hurried into the kitchen and got to work, he’d have time to think of things later that night when he was in his room alone.

***

Since that day in the hall Harry had random bouts of staring off into space. It was like he was trying to remember a vague dream, something important. It didn’t take long until even the Dursleys began to to notice and berate him for it, telling him that his ‘freakishness’ must be effecting his intelligence. All through the week his nights were plagued by strange, cryptic, dreams and terrifying nightmares. He’d wake in his bed, covered in sweat, certain that something was hunting him.

That night it was much of the same. Before bed he had this feeling of dread and stared, tiredly, at the ceiling before eventually nodding off.

_The sound of metal grating against metal. Cold, harsh, wind against his face. White, everything was white. Yells of anger, screams of pain, and a soft voice came to him in a jumble. Fear, sharp and all encompassing made him tremble and cry, the wetness on his cheeks making the wind feel even colder. Suddenly he saw a face. Pale, beautiful, and safe. A gentle voice spoke to him from a corner of his mind. A word, so familiar it stirred his very soul. A name. His name._

Waking with a start, his breathing heavy as he slowly came back to himself, he reached for his glasses on the nightstand and jammed them onto his face. This was his room, the one at the Dursley’s. So why did it feel so wrong for him to be there? Not the usual kind of wrong either, the feeling of being unwanted. But something told him this was never were he was meant to be in the first place.

As the dream slowly began to fade he reached under the bed and pulled out a flashlight and a small journal, scribbling down as much as he could. When he was finished he nibbled on the end of the pen as he looked over the notes he’d made. None of it really made sense until he came to the last word.

 _“Aragail?”_ Saying it out loud he slowly came to realize that the way he spoke the word was not the way he’d written it. The word itself was made with strange symbols he’d never seen before and yet his mind could translate it into sound so easily. Why he’d written it that way, he didn’t know. Shaking slightly he heard Hedwig rustle around in her cage and looked up at her, smiling as calmly as he could.

“It’s alright Hedwig, I’ll be fine. It’s just a bad dream.” Putting the journal and flashlight back he lay in bed again and let the thoughts swirl around in his mind a while longer before he eventually fell back asleep.

***

Waking around six he headed downstairs to start breakfast, knowing that Uncle Vernon would be up and about soon. Setting the kettle to boil in the kitchen he spotted the previous day’s newspaper lying on the table. Picking it up, with the intent to put it in the dust bin, he spotted the main article. It was reiterating the press conference held by the government on behalf of the Lord Elrond. At the bottom was the contact information for anyone who might have a tip to help the Lord find his missing son.

‘Elrond‘s son...’ Spacing out again he missed the hissing of the kettle and had to rush back into the kitchen, almost burning himself on the hot metal as it began to whistle shrilly. Pouring water into the teapot he made sure everything was ready. Just in time too. Vernon came down the stairs a few minutes later and snapped at him about breakfast. Hiding the newspaper behind the breadbox for later he went outside to bring his Uncle the days paper before going back to cooking. It wasn’t long before his Uncle was leaving for work and his Aunt was up. As soon as he got the chance to run back upstairs he took it, hiding the paper under his arm. Luckily Dudley was still asleep or he might not have had a chance.

Sitting at his desk he stared at the paper for quite a while, pondering what he should do.

“What if I don’t really know anything and just waste their time?” He said aloud. Hedwig, from inside her cage, made a mewling sound, somewhere between a whistle and a screech. Looking up at her he smiled. She always seemed to respond to him when he spoke, like she knew what he was saying and was adding her two pennies worth.

“I guess I won’t really know unless I try. What’s the worst that can happen?” Of course, he’d been wrong before. After about an hour of brainstorming he finally started writing.

 _‘To whomever receives this letter,_  
Recently I saw your speech given on the telly. Since then I seem to be having these strange nightmares and often find myself waking up with a sense of deja vu. I know that this is going to sound odd but there is one thing I am certain of. Aragail. It is a name that comes to me more and more. I am certain that this has to do with your missing son, though I cannot say how I know this. I only hope that this letter reaches you and that it is not a waste of your time.  
Sincerely,  
Harry James Potter.’

Looking down at his letter he took a few deep breaths as he waved his hand over the still wet ink, trying to make it dry faster. A moment later he was unlocking Hedwig’s cage and tying the letter gingerly to her leg. Before he could lose his nerve he opened the window and watched his letter soar away on white wings.

“Boy!” So much for hiding away in his room.

“Yes Aunt Petunia?” He said politely from the bottom of the stairs. By this time his cousin was awake and gorging himself on what he supposed would be breakfast. Turning to his Aunt he half expected to be told to start cleaning up. The other half expecting insults for no reason other than they felt like it.

“We received a phone call this morning. Next month your Aunt Marjorie will be coming to visit. Vernon will tell you what we expect of your behavior when he comes home from work.” With that said his Aunt turned toward her son and started speaking with that sappy tone she used only for Dudley. Wincing Harry replied that he would come downstairs as soon as his Uncle was home before he retreated back upstairs.

“Just what this summer needs...” Mumbling to himself he went over to his desk, intending to work on some of his summer homework, but instead ended up staring outside blankly, wondering if the summer could get any worse.

* * *

Flying throughout the day, Hedwig made good time as the magic surrounding the letter written by her Master instinctively lead her to her destination. Stopping on a lamp post outside a large, muggle, government office she tilted her head this way and that. The magic stirred within her as the location of the recipient came to her attention. Pushing off the lamp post she pumped her powerful wings to bring her aloft and soared right through a set of open doors on a second floor balcony. Landing on a tidy, well used, desk she fluffed her feathers and made a faint screeching sound to alert the recipient before settling down again.

* * *

Standing near the shelf the dark haired man searched for a reference book to help him with the task of paperwork one of the government officials had left upon his desk. Hearing the fluttering of wings and the subdued screeching of a bird he turned to see an Owl had perched itself on the edge of his desk. But this was no regular bird. As soon as he took a step closer she held out her leg to him, almost impatiently.

Cautiously he reached over and untied the message from her leg, watching curiously to see what she did. For a moment the bird seemed to look around his office, as if searching for something, before she screeched again and took off out the window. Intrigued he looked down at the letter and quickly cut through the seal with the letter opener on his desk.

For a moment all he did was read the letter. Then again. Just to be sure he read the words a third time before he glanced out in the direction where the Owl had disappeared. Leaving his office he nodded to the guards standing by just outside. One of them followed behind him as he began to search the building carefully, asking around for the Ambassador that had been in charge of relations between the two races. As soon as he found the man he asked for a quick word and commandeered an unused office. Now alone he held out the letter and waited while the man examined it.

“Your people suggested that we leave out the name of my son during the Conference in order to keep those who would wish to abuse this knowledge from being able to do so. However, I used the name of my son during my own speech. If, as you say, no one of the general populace would understand my tongue then this child, this Harry Potter, might very well have pertinent information.” Nodding as he examined the letter the Ambassador looked slightly confused about something.

“The boy left a return address. But how did this letter reach you? It should have come through the team downstairs...” Nodding the Lord of the Elves motioned to the seal on the back before speaking.

“Actually I was going to ask you about that. So far the letters I have received have been plain, white, and written with a ball-point pen. However this letter is written on thick parchment, something I am quite used to. The boy clearly wrote with a traditional quill, and there is a proper seal on the back. Does the post ever use Owls to deliver their letters?” He asked curiously. The man in front of him stiffened, before scowling at the letter.

“Oh, he’s one of Them then. There is someone I need to get in contact with about this. Until then I’m afraid we cannot pursue this further. Why don’t you return to your office for now and I’ll go find the people we need to talk with.” Giving a polite nod he exited the room, his guard at his back, and returned to his office. Though his outward appearance was calm he could feel his emotions twisting in his gut. Could this finally be the information needed to find his son? They would just have to wait and see.

* * *

It had been three days after Hedwig returned and Harry had not received a reply. He tried to ask his familiar if she had delivered the letter properly and she chittered at him in anger before he was able to smooth her ruffled feathers, quite literally.

Finished cleaning the upstairs bathroom Harry brought the garbage outside before slipping on the pair of old gardeners gloves he’d been given offhand by his Aunt. Outside, the heat only staved off by the shadow of the house falling on the back yard, he began pulling weeds and trimming the flower bushes. The work was hard but it wasn’t that bad all things considered. Neville and he had talked about the differences between magical plants and muggle plants. Although Neville was from a family of Pureblood Wizards and Witches he knew a lot about gardening and was good at Herbology. A couple of his suggestions had actually made the work a little easier.

* * *

Inside the house Petunia was starting on lunch while Dudley play outside the front with his friends. A few minutes later him and his friends returned to the house, acting excited. Smiling at the perfectly normal children she listened to them talk about a bunch of fancy black cars down the road but stopped when she heard a knock at the door. Wiping her hands on her apron, wondering just who would be knocking around lunch, she headed to the door and opened it.

“Good day Ma’am. My name is Albert Norrington, Prime Minister for Her Majesty’s Government. Might we have a moment of your time?” Gaping like a fish Petunia could only blink at the man for a moment before standing back and allowing him and two others into her home. As soon as they passed her it was like a switch had been flipped. Right away she asked if they would like to take off their coats, have a sit in the living room, and if she could get them some tea or sandwiches.

“Thank you, Ma’am, but we’ll be fine. We just have a couple questions for you. First, you are Petunia Dursley; correct?” When she nodded he smiled.

“Excellent! We understand that you are the Legal Guardian of Harry Potter, the son of your late sister?” Trying hard to keep her face passive she nodded again. meanwhile Dudley and his friends were staring, agape, at the two very tall men with long hair and clothes the likes of which they’d never seen before. Both stood by quietly while the Prime Minister talked to his mum.

“May we please speak to him? We received word that he might have important information. Although I know this is quite sudden.” Slightly shaken Petunia fell back into her Hostess mode and smiled at the man.

“Of course, just a moment.” Walking down the hall a ways she called out the open back door, her voice dripping with the kind of sweetness she used for her only son.

“Harry, could you come here please? We have some guests who would like to speak with you.” Knowing that he’d heard her and would come inside in a moment she walked back to the foyer and waited, watching the men from the corner of her eye.

* * *

Outside Harry stopped dead when he heard his Aunt call him in her Dudley voice. This sent a shiver of fear down his back. Petunia only used that voice when someone important was in the house and needed to speak with him, like back in muggle school when the teachers had sent a Counselor to talk with his legal guardians. He knew it couldn’t be someone from a muggle school, since he didn’t attend anymore. But if they were Wizards then his Aunt probably wouldn’t be so nice. Unless it was someone threatening. Curiosity and years of obeying the Dursleys were the only reasons he didn’t immediately try to run away. Taking off the gloves, and his shoes at the doorway, he came into the house and stopped at the end of the hall.

“Harry, this is the Prime Minister, Mr. Norrington.” Seeing the look on his Aunt’s face he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t play along with the ‘happy family’ charade. So he smiled shyly at the man and gave a half bow.

“How do you do?” The man beamed at him, though why he couldn’t exactly be sure.

“Nice to meet you Harry. May I introduce you to Lord Elrond, of the Eldar?” Turning slightly he motioned toward the two Elves standing behind him. Harry was about to give another half bow but stopped, catching the man’s eyes. Something inside him stirred and he felt like a bolt of cold swept through him momentarily. Before he could even blink the sensation away the Elven Lord had crossed the Foyer, fallen to his knees, and embraced him.

 _“Aragail, my son!”_


	3. Portal

The day was growing colder as the rider made his way to the edge of the trees. Before him sat the darkened entrance to the Pass. Shielding his blue-grey eyes he stared up at the rocky terrain and muttered to himself.

Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir to the Elves, was journeying to Rivendell. It was time again for another Council Meeting, where they would discuss important goings on in Arda. It was only by chance and a detour that had him coming through the same pass where the beloved Lady Celebrian had been ambushed not eleven years ago. Listening to the wind and judging the clouds he knew that the day would end in rain. There were not many places in the pass for one to hide from the weather if it turned foul so he chose a small clearing within sight of the entrance to make camp.

That night, as the rain came down in sheets, Gandalf sat on a log at the campsite he had chosen, the fire burning cheerfully within it’s earthen pit. He and his horse were hidden by a small overhang of rocks, which kept the rain safely off their heads. Puffing on his pipe he closed his eyes and concentrated again on the wind, trying to judge when the sky would become clear. As he did so however a small niggling at the edge of his magical senses, something he’d vaguely sensed earlier but dismissed, became more pronounced. It was a magical oddity and when he focused all his attention on the feeling it lead him up and into the Redhorn Pass. Opening his eyes again he looked toward the mountains and sighed. Whatever it was would have to wait until the morning.

When he woke the next day the sky had cleared and he felt no disturbances on the wind. Gathering his things he made sure the firepit was cleaned and left some wood nearby, leaving it in the state in which he had found it. Mounting his horse he headed toward the entrance, wary of any danger.

As he rode the feeling began to gather strength, tugging at him. Whatever had created this presence was very powerful. As he got closer the feeling got stronger and sang in his magical minds eye. Gasping he recognized the presence as one he had not felt since the beginning of Creation. Nudging his horse faster the wizard honed in on the feeling, his heart beating in excitement.

Bringing his horse to a stop Gandalf slid out of the saddle, picking up his staff and walking toward the middle of the sensation. Stopping in front of something he could not see he picked up his staff and waved it before him, trying to judge where the core of the invisible presence had coalesced. Feeling no resistance he pushed his own magic into the staff, filling it with light. Again he waved it in front of him. This time there was a sense of resistance and the air rippled with power. Pulling back his staff he concentrated on the crystal held within the tip and pressed it to the center of the resistance. The air rippled and stretched, making the scenery bend, like a mirror being twisted. Whatever this was he did not have the power to examine it further.

“I must inform the council.” Speaking to himself he frowned and re-mounted his horse. It was a long trip to Rivendell from the Redhorn Pass, he had time to come up with a couple of theories on what the magical core might be. In the meantime he was certain that it was safe from the darkness, since it had yet to be disturbed until the lone wizard noticed it’s presence.


	4. Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from the Prime Minister has Petunia in a tizzy, while Harry is trying to wrap his head around what he is being told.

Harry stiffened as the man’s arms circled around his back and pulled him into a hug. His heart thudded in his chest as what could have been panic flooded his body. Although Hermione was in the habit of giving hugs when she was excited or happy he had rarely, if ever, been hugged by an adult. He had no idea what to do or how to feel about it. This man was a stranger to him and even if he felt familiar Harry wasn’t sure why this was happening. Trying to keep calm he glanced over at his aunt and could see she was not pleased, her thin lips drawn into a line. He tried to keep his composure and felt relieved when the man finally released him. Letting out a shaky, nervous breath he blinked up at the man in confusion.

“Father, his light is so dim.” One of the other men spoke in a language that Harry was sure he’d never heard before yet somehow he felt like he should understand it. Was it because of his magic? If he could talk to snakes then maybe he could understand other languages. He’d never met anyone who spoke anything other than English so he couldn’t be sure.

‘Adar,’ Harry thought to himself. The word itself resonated deeply from within him, as if he were remembering something from far away and long ago. “Ada?” Mumbling to himself to get a feel for why the word was so familiar he flushed when everyone was suddenly staring at him. The elves and the Prime Minister were all smiles but his aunt looked like she’d eaten something very sour. Even if she tried to hide it behind her ‘hostess’ smile he could tell she was angry with him. It was just more oddness brought into her home.

“That is the child form of the word our people use to address one’s Father in our tongue.” Looking up into the Lord’s intense grey eyes he could sense a kindness coming from the man, even if he looked stern. In a way it reminded him of the Headmaster. An old, wise, powerful and stern, yet also kind, person. Relaxing some he opened his mouth and asked the first thing that came to mind. “So… was my letter helpful then?”

The men all glanced at each other for a moment before the Prime Minister gave him a sincerely kind smile. “Harry, we didn’t come to thank you for your letter.” The man said politely. “We came to see whether or not you are who his Lordship believes you to be; his son.” For a moment Harry stood there, his green eyes wide and mouth agape. This was eerily similar to the day he learned he was actually a wizard and would be attending a school for magic. Yet this was the far less believable scenario.

“No one on Earth, except for a few Linguistic specialists who have been trying to learn for a few months now, knows the language the Elves speak. The fact that you appear to recognize it might suggest you are a very special boy indeed.” Harry’s mouth turned down slightly in confusion and distress before he tried to mask his emotions. Aunt Petunia already didn’t like him for being a wizard, what would she think if he wasn’t even human? But even before that, did they know he was a wizard? Would he get in trouble for telling them he had magic, and that it might be the reason he could speak the Elves’ language? How could he explain it without making everyone mad at him?

Seeing the child beginning to panic Mr. Norrington turned to Mrs. Dursley and gave her a winning smile. “Perhaps it would be best to borrow your lovely sitting room after all. The poor boy seems to be in a bit of a shock.” Aunt Petunia seemed flustered for a moment but seemed pleased to have such an important guest in her home so settled on being pleased. “Of course, Minister. Please, come right in and sit wherever you like. I’ll start a pot.” Bustling herself off to the kitchen she left Harry with a look that screamed ‘behave,’ telling him to pretend like everything was normal. Swallowing a lump in his throat he walked into the living room with the three men and sat in a chair on the other side of the fireplace. Lord Elrond and the Prime Minister sat down on the couch but the third man stood beside the Lord. Maybe he was a bodyguard?

“First of all I would like to reassure you that we know about your magical heritage. You won’t get in trouble if you talk about it with us.” Harry’s shoulders relaxed as most of the tension left his body. They already knew and he wouldn’t be in trouble. Looking over at the elven lord he bit his lip a little with uncertainty. They thought he was the lord’s son? But how could that be? “Um… I’m sorry but… Why would you think I’m your son?” It took a lot of his gryffindor bravery to just come out and ask but he felt better once the question was in the air.

Elrond watched him carefully a moment, taking his time to think of how to respond. It was clear that the boy was a little overwhelmed. When he spoke again it was in a voice reserved for calming patients, relaxing skittish animals, and addressing nervous children. “You have your mother’s eyes.” The elf standing next to him looked down at the lord and smiled. Harry blinked. It was like a weird deja vu. Everyone said he had his mother’s eyes but they had always meant Lily Potter. “Celebrian was so happy the day you were born. All of our children except for you have my eyes. But that alone is not why I am certain.” Harry leaned forward slightly, intent on the man’s words. “When you were born your spirit shone so brightly. Though you were given the father-name of Elduin your mother decided to gift you with the name Aragail. The names we give ourselves and our children are distinctly different from the languages of this world. Only one person would know that Aragail was a name.” He couldn’t believe it. It made sense but at the same time it just seemed too surreal.

Petunia came into the room with a tray and set it down in front of her guests with a fake smile. Mr. Norrington thanked her quietly and poured himself and the two elves a cup. He didn’t bother to ask if the Elves would like any. He already knew the answer. “Then… what about the Potters?” His aunt twitched and he shrank a little in his seat. “It’s just that, well… everyone says I have my moth- er Lily’s eyes. And that my hair is like my da- uh James.” This was so confusing. He’d never met his mother or father before so for all he knew he had been adopted. None of the teachers talked about them and even if he was curious he didn’t know who to ask about what his parents had been like.

Elrond looked at the elf standing next to him. For a moment he thought they were at a loss for words. “Might you have a photograph you could show us?” Apparently not. At least this was something he could do. Nodding he stood up and with a quick, “excuse me,” he hurried upstairs to find the photo album he’d been gifted first year. He knew that Aunt Petunia wouldn’t like seeing the magical photographs but the men had asked to see them and he was promised he wouldn’t get into trouble. So he pulled it out of his school trunk and hurried back down stairs, book held tight to his chest. Coming into the room he walked over to the elf lord and shyly handed him the book. “Uhm. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen Wizarding photos before. Th-they move. Like a silent movie.” He said, fidgeting under the gaze of the adults. Mr. Norrington gave him a kind smile and the lord took the book from his carefully, almost as if he were afraid of scaring Harry. He kind of appreciated it, but also kind of felt nervous too.

After passing over the book he went back to his chair and took a seat, clinging to the armrests and nibbling his lower lip. Not everyone liked magic, after all. But as the elven lord opened the book, and his bodyguard leaned over for a look, they seemed pleasantly amazed. Even the prime Minister looked astounded, though he was still smiling. “I can see why one might wish they were a Wizard, young man. This is extraordinary!” Harry smiled at the Prime Minister, glad that a normal, everyday, man like Mr. Norrington didn’t seem scared by magic. It was a stark contrast to his aunt who had returned to the kitchen to warm up some scones and gather the trappings. With any luck the fact that it was the Prime Minister in their home might get him out of hot water with her later. “I can see why people would say you look like the Potters.” Blinking he looked over at Elrond, his inner thoughts interrupted. “Mrs. Potter and Celebrian seem to share the same vibrant eye coloring.”

“I say. And the young man does seem to have Mr. Potter’s hair, although his facial features are quite sharp compared to the two of them. He’s young yet though.” Harry felt his face heat up slightly as the adults looked between him and the photos. Standing Mr. Norrington left the room, after quietly excusing himself, then politely asked Petunia where the restroom was. Harry watched him go for a moment before turning his attention back to the elves. Their features were sharper than most peoples and they had this sort of glow about them. It felt almost comforting. The two spoke in their elvish language but rather than feeling unnerved his body relaxed. It was like the words were something he remembered from a time when he felt happy, safe, and loved. 

Eventually Mr. Norrington came back into the room, looking slightly concerned. Harry picked up on it immediately, a skill learned over the course of his life living with the Dursleys. He was always aware of other peoples emotions and shrank in on himself a bit. Noticing this the man gave him a reassuring smile, one that reached his eyes. He looked down at his wristwatch and tutted. “I am afraid I must cut this visit a little short. I have a meeting soon and I cannot be late. Government officials hate it when you’re not right on time.” Closing the book the lord placed it on the table with a polite nod. Just then his aunt re-entered the room with a plate of scones, looking a little disappointed that they wouldn’t be staying. The bodyguard shifted his weight a little, his expression politely blank. The lord was the same. “Oh? Leaving so soon?” She simpered at the men with a bright, fake, smile. Mr. Norrington nodded. “Unfortunately Mrs. Dursley we must go. However I will most certainly partake of one of your assuredly excellent scones.” His aunt turned pink with pleasure at the compliment and quickly wrapped a scone in a fancy napkin for him to take.

Harry stood up from his chair, uncertain whether his aunt would want him to see the men to the door. But she looked over at him and in her most fake sweet voice called him over. “Harry, now don’t be rude. Come say good-bye, love.” He felt sick to his stomach but smiled and walked over to stand next to her. She placed a slender hand on his shoulder and he wanted to wince at the almost too tight grip. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Harry. I hope we get to speak again some time.” Reaching out the man shook his hand in a gentle grasp that made him smile. The man had been nothing but kind. Turning to the elves he wondered if they also did handshakes, but somehow that didn’t seem appropriate. Remembering some of the things the Weasley’s had said about pureblood families, and some of the etiquette he had been taught by Hermione, he bowed deeply to the elves. When he looked up through his black hair the three men seemed pleased, and his aunt had let go of his shoulder which was a bonus.

“If it would not be an imposition, would you allow us to return tomorrow? There is still much I wish to discuss with Aragail.” The man said politely to his aunt. Harry looked up at her and could see the cogs turning before she smiled. “Of course, it would be a pleasure to have you again, your Lordship.” His aunt curtsied and he hid a grimace. She was laying it on a little thick. But Elrond gave her a polite nod of the head, leaning forward slightly in a way that suggested a bow but wasn’t one. Then he looked down at Harry and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Na lû e-govaned 'wîn, Ionneg.” The lord said, smiling down at him kindly. Another flicker of recognition shot through him but he hesitated to respond. “Uh- until next time.” He said in response, which earned him another slightly surprised look and another large smile. Then they were gone. In the kitchen he could hear his aunt moving quietly talking on the phone, probably to his uncle. Without a word he gathered the dishes and took them into the kitchen to wash up. Aunt Petunia had used the good china for their guests but he had long since learned how to clean them properly. Only dipping them in the hot water for a moment before carefully wiping them clean with a cloth and leaving them out to air dry to preserve the delicate details painted on each piece. By the time he was finished his aunt was off the phone and eying him with careful calculation. “Well then, if we are going to have the Prime Minister and some foreign… ambassador in our home I think it’s best we get you some nicer clothes. We can’t have you looking shabby for our guests. I’ve spoken to your uncle. Tomorrow we will go shopping, but don’t get greedy. We expect something to come of all this. And you’d best behave.” Harry nodded almost frantically. “Of course, Aunt Petunia. I promise.” She sniffed then shooed him away, intent on planning for the next day.

Going up to his room with his photo album he sat on his bed and stared at the cover. If he wasn’t Harry Potter, then who or what was he supposed to be? He had a wand and could do magic, so he was definitely a wizard. Did the Elves have magic? What if he really was Aragail? Did that mean he had a family that actually wanted him? That had searched for him all the way to another dimension like some science fiction movie? The whole day had been bizarre to say the least. Now all he wanted to do was sleep. “I think I’ll wait and see what happens tomorrow. Good night Hedwig.” She quietly cooed at him and he smiled, getting up to pet her and put away his book before dressing for bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

***

Getting inside the car the lord Elrond sat across from the Prime Minister, his twin sides on either side of him. The man looked faintly disturbed, a feeling he felt was mutual. “You seem troubled.” Mr. Norrington slowly nodded, glancing back at the house as the car began to move. “There is something… not quite right in that home.” He said tentatively. The twins shared a look around their father. Elladan, who had been guarding his father inside the home, frowned. “I agree. There was something not quite right about that place, adar.” Elrond let out a long sigh. Aragail looked small, weak, and frail. His light was dim but he seemed to function as a man might, even aging as quickly as they did. How this had come to pass he did not know. But it was a worry to be sure. “Although we have lived in your lands for a year, Prime Minister, there is still much we have yet to learn. Would you tell me what makes you feel that home is not right?”

Mr. Norrington nodded, his brows furrowed. “You saw how thin the child is, compared to the other boy?” Oh yes, Elrohir had seen the other child. He’d watched the human security detail trying to rein the child in when he refused to stop touching the car or asking ridiculous questions. It could be excused as childhood innocence and a lack of understanding of proper etiquette however he had a feeling it wasn’t that way at all. “When I left to use the lavatory I saw all manner of pictures of the Dursley boy. But found none of young Harry with his family. The house is too clean. Too…” He didn’t quite know how to put it but Elrond nodded. “It was a facade.” The man nodded. “It was as if the boy had left no footprint in that home whatsoever. And his clothes… for a woman who cleans and keeps home as well as she does it struck me as odd that his clothes seemed so worn.” This conversation made Elrond frown. Children were rare and well loved by the elves. To see one who might be neglected or even abused, Eru forbid, had him on edge. Especially when that child was his own.

“I think it is providence that we found him when we did. Neglect can do all manner of things to a child.” Elrond nodded. “Now that I have found my son I have every intention of taking him home as swiftly as I can. It is best he learn about his own heritage, and to not get attached to any human friends he has made.” Mr. Norrington frowned but nodded in understanding. No matter how many times the elves assured the men of this world that they were thousands of years old it was still hard for them to believe.

“On the bright side, you get to see him tomorrow. But I’m afraid I will not be able to attend.” The man looked genuinely apologetic but the lord shook his head. “I understand. You are a busy man, and I am thankful for all you have done for me and my people here.” In the year since they arrived in the land of Britain things had certainly been quite eye opening.

“Sirs? We’ll be arriving at our destination in a moment.” Elrond looked forward to the next day. Soon his family would be whole, safe and sound in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But what happened to the Scones? Dudley and his friends ate them, of course.


	5. Portal 2

Riding into the pass on her faithful mare Astor, her retinue ahead and behind her, the lady Galadriel could sense the positive energies emanating from the strange phenomenon Mithrandir had spoken of in his message. It had been a mild surprise when a falcon flew down from the trees to relay the grey wizard’s words to her. After much preparation and time spent traveling with her guards they had finally arrived.

 _“A star shines on the hour of hour meeting, beloved lord Elrond.”_ Smiling at her daughter’s husband she held out a delicate hand and allowed herself to be helped off her horse. The lord Elrond gave her a polite nod, smiling in return. _“We welcome our beloved lady Galadriel. It is good to see you, even though the circumstances are abnormal.”_ Giving him a slow nod she turned to Gandalf, the grey wanderer, and smiled, holding out her hand to him to hold in friendship. _“It is good to see you, as always, Mithrandir.”_ The elderly wizard squeezed her hand momentarily before letting go, his smile reflected in his eyes. _“It is a pleasure, my lady, to see you once more. Allow me to show you to our camp.”_ Walking with Gandalf she heard Elrond speak to her guards about where they might pitch camp. But her attention had already turned toward the focal point for the energy. It was as if her senses were singing. _“I can see why Mithrandir was intrigued.”_ She remarked to the wizard, who ducked his head with a knowing smile.

When they came upon the center of the energy Gandalf demonstrated what he had found. He could walk through the center point of the strange disturbance but the moment he used his magic reality began to warp around it. Fascinated she took a closer look with her own magic, prodding the phenomenon gently. The moment she made contact she was thrust into a powerful vision.

She was standing in the pass as Orcs chased down a fleeing figure. She would know that figure anywhere. Her heart clenched at the fear and desperation on her daughter’s face as she clutched her child to her chest and ran from the ambush. The words her daughter spoke were clear as day as she begged the Valar for aid. One moment young Aragail was in her arms, crying, and the next he was gone. As orcs descended on the woman Galadriel’s vision ended, leaving her blinking at a worried Gandalf and Elrond. Taking a moment to collect herself she turned fiercely determined eyes to the two men. _“My daughter was not wrong. It was by the will of the Valar that Aragail disappeared. He is still alive.”_ Hope filled them at these words and Galadriel herself was relieved.

 _”Might I suggest we wait for Curunir to arrive before pressing further.”_ The Lady of Light inclined her head toward the Istar, agreeing to his suggestion. They would need all their wits and magic combined to understand what this all meant.


End file.
